


Drizzle

by Adelinea



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Winter Mystrade Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:32:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adelinea/pseuds/Adelinea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh look! It's a coffee shop AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drizzle

**Author's Note:**

> Winter Mystrade Exchange gift for the lovely petezza-for-patrick (petezza-for-patrick.tumblr.com). Hope you enjoy!

It was a plain little thing, the coffee shop that is. A small, locally owned shop on the corner of the street, right beside the cross-walk where the pedestrians of London would often stop for a cup before heading off for a long day of work. Bright strings of lights hung on the trim of the roof for the holidays, a tiny tree on the counter inside the shop, decorated with red and white. Chatter could usually be heard from within, light laughter that came with the holiday spirit though the sun had not yet risen.

Mycroft Holmes was late that early December day. Mycroft Holmes was never late. But for some reason he had a meeting with the ambassador of whatever and he was late.

Why was he walking? He never walked. Oh that’s right. He had given Tony, his chauffer, three months off because his wife just gave birth. Why didn’t he have a back-up chauffer? Mycroft needed a back-up chauffer.

He stopped his brisk walking when two beeps emitted from his mobile. Transferring the briefcase from his right to his left hand, Mycroft plucked the black phone out of his pocket and looked at the text. Oh, thank god. Anthea had managed to cancel the meeting and he now had the morning off. Well then, looks like his PA was getting extra on her Christmas bonus.

Putting his cell back in his coat pocket, the politician looked around. Giving the briefcase back to his right hand, Mycroft turned to his left walked into a petite but respectable café.

He could really go for a cup of coffee right about now.

\--

Greg glanced up at the clock. 7:32 it said. Had he only been here for an hour? God, it seemed like much longer. The café wasn’t teeming with people as it usually was, many had just gotten their coffee and rushed off without staying for a chat, and there were only a few left sitting in the corner on their laptops or peacefully reading.

The only sounds that could be heard were the occasional shuffle of feet and the gurgle of the coffee machine as it brewed and spread a bold aroma throughout the quiet den.

“Hey, Molls, could you pass me the whipped cream?” Greg looked back from the clock and focused on making the coffee.

Molly tossed the can to him without saying a word and he caught it expertly, having worked with his friend for over eight months now. Swirling the sugary cream on top of “Liz”’s hazelnut latte, Greg mentally sighed. It was going to be such a long day.

The employee looked up when the bell on top of the door ringed as it opened and a man walked through.

Oh, um…

Yeah, a man walked in…and…

So, just, yeah…okay…

What was he saying again?

Greg jumped and hissed as a drop of steaming coffee sloshed onto his hand from the cup he was holding and the employee was forced to admit, that was an _attractive_ man.

Light auburn hair was styled professional on his head, but not overdoing it with globs of gel. A stray curl fell delicately onto his forehead that the man didn’t seem to notice and Greg thought it made him look absolutely adorable. He wore a long, grey wool coat that fell to his knees and the leather gloves along with the suit that peeked out of the unbuttoned coat signaled the man’s high-class status. A few centimeters taller than him, Lestrade couldn’t help but think he’d be the perfect height for this handsome man.

He set “Liz”’s order on the counter and left Molly to it. Greg didn’t notice her look of utter annoyance.

Following a long nose and smooth skin and pale eyes, the coffee shop man followed the customer hang up his coat and leaned his dry umbrella against the coat rack. As the man got closer to where he was, Greg realized he was staring and quickly looked down, innocently scratching the top of the sparkling clean counter.

The man approached the counter and Lestrade looked up.

“Hello, what would you like?” He said a bit too brightly, noticing that up close the man sported rosy cheeks.

“Just one cup of black coffee for me.” The man said.

“Sugar?”

_God, he’s wearing a bloody waistcoat!_ Greg thought as he grabbed a cup and a pen from the under the counter. _And oh dear lord, his voice._

Greg hoped he wasn’t drooling.

“No, thank you.”

It was true, the man’s voice was smoother than silk, settling over Lestrade like a blanket of warmth.

“Name?” Greg met his eyes.

“Mycroft.”

“How d’you spell that?” Their eyes were still on each other.

“M-y-c-r-o-f-t.” He pronounced each letter slowly, pausing momentarily after each to give Lestrade time to write them down.

As Greg scribbled down the name on the cup, he tried to suppress the shiver that the man’s voice sent down his spine. He wasn’t a pervert, Lestrade swore he wasn’t, but that man had also sent a whole lotta something else straight to his crotch.

The employee swallowed as the man -no, Mycroft- passed him his card and their fingers brushed against each other, very, very slightly.

And then once again when Greg handed the card back.

Lestrade told himself to breathe as he filled the cup to the brim with steaming black coffee. Mycroft was still waiting at the counter, and Greg told himself it wasn’t possible when he felt this posh man’s fingers touched his for the third time.

Mycroft smiled thanks and Greg tried not to stare at his retreating back as he took a seat at a tiny table for two in front of the window. The employee gave on last lingering look and then glared at Molly as she nudged him in the side and grinned.

There were now nine people present in the coffee shop, all of them sitting at tables and no one ordering anything so obviously Molly and Greg were passing the time.

“Talk to him.” She whispered, looking at Mycroft.

Still watching the man, Greg snorted, “He looks like a right arrogant git.”

She turned fully to him, raising an eyebrow and giving him her _are-you-fucking-serious_ look.

Their eyes battled a noble fight for a full eight seconds and then finally sighing in defeat as Molly smirked, Lestrade huffed, “Do you see even him?” He said quietly back, “I’d never have a chance with someone as posh as that.”

“You’ll never know until you try, yeah?” Molly gave on last grin and turned to take the order of an old couple that had just come in.

\--

Mycroft stared out the window and suppressed a grimace at the bitterness of the coffee. Damn this diet. Absolutely no sugar, not even the slightest bit. Well, he had exactly five hours and twenty one minutes to kill. He sighed and the politician watched as pedestrians on the other side of the street hurry to their next destination. Something in the reflection of the glass moved, catching his eye. Or, rather, someone.

The employee. The one with silvery hair and slightly tanned skin. Perfectly chiseled features, and a hint of stubble around his mouth which gave him a sense of gruffness. Mycroft couldn’t complain that his muscular arms were not hidden under a short-sleeved uniform and the tightness of his apron did wonders for showing off the strong torso. And he had nice eyes. Large brown ones of melted chocolate that, if you looked close enough, turned amber with the right lighting. Don’t be so surprised that Mycroft had noticed every detail. It was fairly easy, really.

But he had also seen a swallow that gave away everything. Don’t even mention the dilated pupils, he didn’t even need to see that to know. Mycroft breathed through his nose in a ghost of a laugh and sipped his coffee.

There was no possible way that his work would allow him time for such…distractions. And surely if this did work out by some miracle, it would be nothing more than a simple shag. Though he refused to admit to himself that that would be better than nothing.

But would Mummy really approve-

His phone chirped and pulling it out, Mycroft showed no emotion to having received the information that Anthea needed to pass some documents to him and would be in the coffee shop in about fourteen seconds.

The politician turned back to the window and drank his coffee, and involuntarily (he swore it wasn’t purposefully) he watched the employee behind the counter bustle around to squirt some chocolate sauce on a cup. Mycroft Holmes expects everything. Except for when the employee looked up and met his eyes in the window reflection.

That was not at all expected. He felt his breath hitch in his chest and the Holmes looked away hastily, though he still felt the gaze of the man behind the counter burn into the back of his head.

A ring of the bell from the door and Mycroft looked up to see heels clack their way across the café directly to him. There was no longer a prickling on the back of his head and Mycroft felt oddly in need for the employee’s attention once again.

His PA immediately sat down in the opposite chair and held out a manila folder to him. “Sir, these are from Yemen…” She trailed off, “Sir?”

“Terribly sorry, my dear, just…” Mycroft trailed off as Anthea snapped her head around, inspecting everyone and everything in the small café with the eyes of a hawk.

Turning back and retracting the documents, her grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Sir?” She said, still smiling.

“Yes, Anthea?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Talk to him.” Mycroft’s PA leaned forward not so subtly and cocked her head towards the employee, “We both know it, so just talk to him.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse my language, sir, but just shut it.” He glanced up sharply but her wide smile was still plastered onto her face, “I am going to leave now and clear your schedule for the whole day. You had better come back to work tomorrow with either a boyfriend or having been thoroughly shagged.”

She gave an official nod, “Trust me sir, you need it.”

And with that Mycroft’s PA stood up and her black heels clacked one again out the door with Mycroft staring bewildered after her ghost. The shock faded eventually and the expression fell off his face as it became emotionless once again, but mentally he was scratching out that comment about not having time for the employee and disregarding Mummy for once in his life.

It was not often that someone was able to surprise the Holmes but Anthea was one of the three people he had made exceptions to long ago.

But why did she want-

Oh dear, his coffee was getting cold.

\--

He really shouldn’t feel this affected by a stranger. But Greg could feel a stone in his stomach anyways as a gorgeous young woman walked in and started to head directly towards Mycroft.

There was no one at the counter and Lestrade watched the woman take a seat opposite that posh man as Molly came up beside him.

“Sorry, Greg.” She said apologetically.

“What are you sorry for? Don’t even know him.” He said, not taking his eyes off Mycroft and the woman.

She was saying something, and then turning suddenly, her eyes landed on him. They locked eyes for less than a nanosecond and her hair whipped elegantly as she twisted back around, saying something else with a grin on her face. Lestrade narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the counter.

Greg was confused. He never liked being confused.

Seeing Mycroft furrow his eyebrows that for some reason made his insides flip, he watched as she said one last thing before standing up and walking smartly out the door.

What the fuck?

And then Molly was back by his side.

“Maybe you do have a chance after all.” She said, playfully nudging him in the ribs.

Greg didn’t reply but took one more look at Mycroft before turning his back to measure out another cup of coffee beans.

\--

Mycroft’s phone chimed and he knew exactly who the text was from.

 

**His name’s Greg. – A**

 

The politician rolled his eyes and tapped back a message quickly.

 

**I am well aware. – MH**

 

As soon as he set down his phone, it chirped again.

 

**;) – A**

 

**Please do not start with the emoticons, Anthea. – MH**

 

**I know you’re only replying to put off talking with him. Stop avoiding it or you’re never going to get laid tonight. – A**

**I have never in my life heard such nonsense being uttered from someone as intelligent as you. – MH**

**Goodbye, sir. – A**

Mycroft sighed, setting his phone down. He could practically see her smirk through his PA’s texts and it annoyed him. Another beep and he read the message curiously.

 

**Oh, and sir? Don’t forget about your wild days in uni! ;) Have fun! – A**

 

Now how did she get those files depicting his leisurely activities at Cambridge? The politician huffed through his nose, utterly pissed, and downed the rest of his cold coffee in one gulp. And not once did he think of the employee. Nope, not once. Not at all. It was a definite no.

Okay, maybe he did think of him.

Only a little though!

Just a tiny bit.

\--

It was now 10:22 and everyone else had already left, Mycroft was the only one besides the employees in the coffee shop. He was still staring out the window and Greg was still watching, having been pining away for three hours now.

“Hey Greg,” Molly said, louder than necessary, “I need to head to the loo, I’ll be back in a mo’.”

She gave him a wink which he pointedly ignored and Lestrade nodded curtly, going back to wiping down the already clean countertop for the fourth time in the past hour.

Greg and Mycroft were the only two in the café, and now the silence just seemed awkward without the background noise of Molly or other customers. He walked out from behind the counter to tidy up something and somehow ended up three tables away from where Mycroft had pulled out a book from his briefcase and was starting to read.

Outside, snow started to fall almost hesitantly, coming down first in a few flakes, and then gradually becoming large, fluffy bits of snow.

The employee could feel Mycroft’s occasional peeks towards him and was about to go back to the counter in defeat when he heard that voice.

“Is it always this empty?”

Turning towards the polished voice that flowed like thick honey, Greg glanced at Mycroft, “Just during this time until rush hour when everyone’s going home.” And then he turned back and continued to clean the table he was at.

He silently cursed himself. Why the fuck couldn’t he keep a conversation going? Lestrade sucked in a breath and before he could change his mind, he said, “Don’t you have someplace to go? This is usually the time when everyone’s at work.”

Shit. Shitshitshitshit. He could be sensitive! And is it really your business? Greg could actually _feel_ the rejection radiating off the posh man and slowly coming towards him and his face almost burned with embarrassment.

To his surprise, Mycroft put down the book and smiled, “I’ve been allowed a day off.”

“Yeah?”

Greg had now stopped cleaning completely and had angled his whole body towards the customer.

“My job is actually quite flexible, though the meetings often pile up.”

Mycroft screamed posh-ness.

“So you’re going to spend your day off in an empty coffee shop?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow and had subconsciously moved half a table closer.

“If you’re willing to join me.”

Mycroft had held out a hand, motioning to the chair opposite him and looking directly at Greg’s eyes.

Lestrade breathed a laugh through his nose and shook his head affectionately at the invitation. Carpe diem, that was the saying, wasn’t it?

“Love to.”

Grinning, he walked over to sit down at the tiny table next to the window.

He looked at Mycroft and said, “Hello.”

Brown eyes met icy blue ones once again and from that moment on, they could not take their eyes off each other. The strong and flavorful scent of coffee had begun to fill the shop as the machine bubbled softly in the backdrop.

“Hello.”

“Greg Lestrade.” He introduced.

“Short for Gregory I imagine?”

“Yeah. And your name is?” The employee said with a smile.

“Mycroft Holmes.” The posh man held out a hand to shake, “ _Very_ pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Lestrade shook his cool hand, slightly afraid of putting him off with his own sweaty ones.   

“Excuse me, but,” Mycroft’s eyes moved slightly up, “you’ve got some whipped cream,” He reached out and swiped his thumb across Greg’s cheekbone, “right here.”

Greg felt the heat rising to his cheeks, watching Mycroft retract his hand ever so slowly. Then, he licked the sugar off his finger. An innocent little lick, like a child testing a new flavor of lollipop.

The employee felt his crotch twitch under the table.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“That’s very forward of you.”

There was nothing the employee could do but try to suppress the way the corner of his mouth was itching upwards.

“And it depends,” Mycroft smirked, “is it working?”

Lestrade huffed, “ _Yes._ ”

And then, finding his wit, Greg leaned forwards and placed his hand on the back of Mycroft’s warm neck to pull him closer. His lips found the Holmes’s and pressing them together, their mouths slid together perfectly. There was no uncomfortable presence of teeth bumping against each other or noses getting in the way. The moment Greg kissed Mycroft, fireworks erupted and the employee felt the politician eagerly grappling at his apron, trying to get him closer. Mycroft tasted like bitter coffee mixed with a slight hint of whiskey, a dash of tobacco sprinkled in the mixture as the whistle of the coffee machine whined loudly.

Finally pulling apart after god-knows-how-long, the smiles of idiots were spread across their faces. Lips were both red and swollen and shiny with saliva, neither could help but pant slightly.

After a moment of regaining his composure, Greg smiled at Mycroft, “Do you always let strangers kiss you?”

“My dear Gregory, I can hardly say we are strangers after that.” The Holmes waggled his eyebrows.

Greg grinned widely again and grabbed Mycroft’s tie, “Would you like to get to know me better?” Without waiting for a reply, he tugged on the tie, not once caring about wrinkling it and crashed his lips on the politician’s again. He immediately slipped his tongue between a pair of slick lips, exploring the inside of Mycroft’s mouth and deepening the kiss. The Holmes emitted a low groan that made Greg shiver and neither of them noticed that Molly had been gone for over ten minutes or that her car was missing from the curb.

Snow continued to fall outside and Greg continued to kiss Mycroft.


End file.
